I had diner at my local favorite Thai restaurant. A city boy like me doesn’t like to cook every day, catching up with friends is far more entertaining than standing in that magazine kitchen I don’t have. The room was crowded and the staff gave me a nice table next to their working space and next to a table with eleven people; yes, I’ve counted them between my aperitif and my order. Eleven Flemish speaking people in a restaurant in the heart of Brussels is as rare as finding that guy that suits you perfectly.
I was kind of intrigued. Who are these people? They seemed to be more colleagues than close friends. The few conversations I could pick up didn’t mention broken hearts or NSA experiences. Unfortunately I couldn’t pick up enough words to understand what they were talking about. Amongst them was one Flemish speaking veiled young girl. I noticed that. And I thought : well, they’re probably teachers who welcome non-native speakers to learn to understand and to speak Dutch.
The meal I had was fine, the drinks were fine, my evening out was perfect. But back home I couldn’t help thinking : why didn’t I go to ask them what they do in life since I’m also a teacher. What brings them here? Instead of making a first move, I made up so many scenarios in my head. And I missed an opportunity of talking to people, to hear their story. I invented their history, I classified them (the veiled woman, the guy with the baseball basket is probably gay, the girl with the blond hair looks so common, how can one be dressed like that and so on).
I’ve noticed we don’t talk to each other anymore. When I go out clubbing and we stand in the smoker room, we just smoke, we look away or we look at each other without looking. Are we afraid? Have we become social media avatars? Do we really need our smartphone to actually get in contact with that guy standing next to us? Is all communication lost? Are we looking for perfection?
We live in a strange world. We strive for perfection. The perfect home with the perfect man, the perfect job, the perfect friends, the perfect evening out. We live in the perfect city. We have a perfect day, we live the perfect holiday. The perfect ABBA-song. The perfect meal. The perfect silence. The perfect underwear we bought. That perfect shirt. The perfect body. The perfect perfume. The perfect color. The perfect friend. Even the perfect haricot is important in our lives. The perfect beer. In perfect shape. The perfect jeans. The perfect skin. The perfect deal. The perfect candidate. The perfect haircut. The perfect lover. A perfect plan. Un amour parfait. The perfect dream. The perfect size. Size matters. The perfect age.
When push comes to shove, only then it’s time to talk. But do we talk? Do we dare to talk? Or do we just throw the other in the bin? Do we feel that our ego is in danger?
The perfect book. The perfect tone. The perfect light. Perfect timing. Perfectly right on time. The perfect moment. The perfect misunderstanding. The perfect alibi.
I missed out a chance to widen my horizons, to adjust my opinion – I’m a guy who always wants to have the last word -, and to take me or eleven people to new levels.
A lot of people don’t talk anymore. They imagine. A lot of people don’t feel anymore, they only (screen)touch. A lot of people run away from other people who might need us, and then we cry in silence at home because solitude has become a friend. We judge books by their covers. We don’t read the first chapter anymore. It’s sign of times.
What can be more fulfilling in a life than to go and talk to people we don’t know, to open a secret door that we never dared to open, talking to that guy in full leather, talking to that slut you see all the time, having a no virtual chat with some rubber skinheads, the sneaker freak and even with the party boy. Having a drink with that old queen who lived in the gay scene for more than 40 years. Sharing experience with HIV positive people, sharing experience on how we use Prep. We’d be surprised how great we become when we share knowledge.
If we don’t read the first chapter anymore, if we stay in our own perfect world, then our world is a cold world like a ghost town. We easily reject people. It hurts.
When reading the first chapter, you can always put the book back on the shelf when it doesn’t suit. By reading the first chapter, it’s also your own book that’s been written. It’s also sharing a part of your pages. It’s that perfect encounter that pops up when unexpected.
I recently met a great guy. He’s not perfect, I’m not perfect but the book is open. Love always finds its way, trust me. There’s a whole new book to read and to write. And as for us at Alpha Tribe Magazine, we open a lot to new experiences on our pages and the events we attend. You’d be surprised of the library you discover!
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